Robot Adept

As she moved out into the snow, she concentrated on attuning to the machine. She had only a little time to ascertain the range of its capabilities. How fast could it gallop? How quickly could it slow? How well could it maneuver? She had to get the feel of it, so that she could use it without thinking, exactly as she would her own body.

She pushed down on the pedal, and the mobile leaped ahead, spewing out snow behind. She lifted her foot, and the thing stopped so suddenly that only her restraining harness prevented her body from being thrown forward and out of it, while snow flew up in a small cloud.

The machine was responsive!

That made her think of Mach, the most responsive of machines.

But Purple was overhauling her rapidly. She leaped forward again, lest he ram her and bump her out before she got started. As she did, she steered to the side, and the machine quickly swerved. This was an excellent unicorn!

Now she was ready, and barely in time, for Citizen Purple’s mobile was upon her. It had maintained speed while she experimented, and she could not gain on it from a standing start. The Citizen was aiming to ram her, he being on the inside of the track and she moving more slowly on the outside. She would be out of control in a moment if he scored.

But she had a body that was close enough in principle to her own, and experience in exactly this kind of tactic. She gauged the likely point of impact, and as he speeded up to add more impetus to the bump, she cut suddenly left, crossing in front of him, and abruptly slowed.

Caught by surprise, he struck her right flank and caromed off to the right. She was already steering left again, countering the shove of her rear. Then, as he tried to compensate for his unexpected impetus, she cut right, accelerated, and bumped him hard from the inside.

He careened out of the track so violently that his vehicle collided with the outer retaining wall. A buzzer sounded: the contest was over.

Fleta had not only won, she had won decisively. She had made an experienced gamesman look like a duffer. “How dost thou like that manure, Citizen?” she called gleefully.

Then, realizing that caution was in order, she guided her snowmobile quickly inside, and departed before Purple could get there.

As she returned to her chamber, she knew she had secured her chance to return to Phaze. But now, oddly, she wished she did not have to go just yet. After all, she had just qualified for Round Five, one of only sixty-four survivors! That was halfway through the rounds! Who knew how far she could go if she remained in the Tourney!

But Mach was waiting at the chamber. “Don’t get notions, filly,” he said severely. “You’re safe, now—but if you play again and lose, we might not be able to coordinate the exchange before you got shipped offplanet.”

That sobered her. “Agape will have to play in my stead,” she said regretfully. “Mayhap she will win the Tourney and become the next Citizen!”

“Maybe,” he agreed. Then they made love, for it would be their last night together for a time.

“Remember,” he said in the morning. “Keep the secret. Bane tells me that the Adverse Adepts are raising an army. He has to learn more about their plans, and only he can spy on them without their knowledge; I am too much a duffer at magic, and if they mean to betray us and break the truce—”

“Aye,” she said. “That other tourney be not over yet.”

Then, before the call for the next game came, Bane arrived. There was no sign of him, but Mach could tell. “She’s with him,” he said. “Come, embrace me, and concentrate on Phaze: your desire to return.”

“Aye,” she repeated, embracing him with mixed emotions.

Now she felt the presence of the others. She willed herself to Phaze, to the lovely open plain that occupied this spot there, and the exchange took hold.

Chapter 9 Masquerade

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After a horrendous three-day stint with Stile, operating from a hidden retreat and spying on demons who tended to stomp butterflies on sight, Bane made contact with Mach and learned that it was time to return Agape to Proton. He explained his own plan, and they agreed.

He returned to the Blue Demesnes to discover a change. There was an evanescent glow about the castle that could only signify a rare happiness. If the Lady Blue was happy, she surely had good reason. He could think of only one likely event that would have this effect.

Was that why his father had decided to pursue his investigation elsewhere, instead of returning to the Blue Demesnes at this time? Stile had withdrawn his opposition to Bane’s union with Agape, but the situation still prohibited it; perhaps Stile simply preferred to stay clear of the inevitable awkwardness.

“Anybody home?” he called.

His mother came out to meet him, smiling. With her was a young woman who looked like Fleta, but was not.